Script Walker
Her fingers shook and no.... noo..., not from weakness but from the need to control something, probably me.
"I want them all dead," she whispered into my ear; "Every. Last. One."
I wrapped my arms around her and allowed her to tremble some more.
Not because I cared about her but because this was where empires were born: not on thrones rather from whispered grief from vulnerable queens/kings and consolation.
"It's already begun," I said into her hair.
She looked up at me with those green eyes glassy with heat and hatred.
"You'll kill them for me?"
"No," I said. "I'll kill them for *us*."
She kissed me like a drowning woman, I felt raw hunger and rage tangled into something that barely felt human. And I gave her exactly what she needed; the illusion of control. That's what sex was with this woman. A chess move with sweat.
We collapsed onto her bed like ashes settling on the ground after being blown by the wind. Her grief was my weapon.And somewhere, beneath all the heat and hatred, she forgot that her son had screamed.
I didn't.
Later, when the candlelight dimmed and she finally fell asleep beside me,arm thrown over my chest like a claim,I stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene in my mind.
Her son's death wasn't clean but It was meant to be.
It was a ritual, One sacrifice to awaken a world which wasn't ready at all.
I opened my HUD.
[Narrative Skill: Cinematic Reflexes - Passive Trigger: PLANNED COMBAT SCENE- EXECUTED PERFECTLY]
[Event Branching Complete: Historical Rewrite Unlocked]
[Villain Proximity Rising: The Scriptorian watches your edits.]
Good. Let him watch. The Director's Cut could hide behind his twisted timelines all he wanted,this was my spinoff now.
Té_ddy · Fantasy
Té_ddya year agoPosted